Pancakes and Vegas
by softasthunder
Summary: Crack-fic time! You have been warned. "But I'd make you pancakes everyday!" Derek blanched, "Wait seriously?"


**Disclaimer: I do not own any original Life with Derek characters that may appear in this story. **

**Claimer: The remainder of this story including: plot, dialogue, & OC characters, is my original work.**

**No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.**

CRACK-FIC ALERT.

I hope you guys like it!**  
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><p><strong><em>Author: <em>**_softasthunder_

**_Pancakes and Vegas - Life with Derek Fanfiction _**

Derek was driving the Prince, Casey had seated herself next to him and the air was filled with an awkward tension. You see, lovely readers, six months ago, Derek and Casey, our dear, _dear_ Derek and Casey broke up.

Or well, more specifically, _Casey _had dumped _Derek_. Now six months on the dot, she was dating his opposite.

Instead of Derek's reddish brown hair, soft curls, he had bright flames, in tight coils; as Derek had soulful, chocolate eyes, Mr. Firehead had sparkling dark green eyes; lean and tall physique for Derek, Casey's beau had a rather average height (5'4) and was, to put it frankly, scrawny.

Though at eighteen one would have believed Casey and Derek mature enough to argue like collected adults, but there they were, still bickering as hormonally driven fifteen year olds.

"And where's your little spark?" Derek asked rudely.

(And you this story couldn't get cornier. Well I suggest you to prepare yourselves.)

Casey glared out the window, determined to be the adult her age suggested she was, "He's at his friend's house."

Derek snorted, causing our lovely heroine to whip furiously around and give him a level ten Death Glare; only two levels higher than usual. He let a cocky smirk overtake his red lips; getting a rise out of Casey was his favourite thing to do.

Well, besides the whole, banging her brains out thing.

That he wasn't allowed to do any more.

Because she _dumped him. Him. Derek Venturi. _

_**Derek. Venturi. **_

"Your little bitch actually _has _friends?" He whistled incredulously. "And here I thought the only thing he could do was stutter and force you through 'Star Wars'."

Casey upped her glare to a level eleven.

Derek smirked. He was, actually, quite frustrated. He had not only been dumped by Casey (even if that was six months ago), but he hadn't been able to sneak into her room every night so he could 'bang her brains out'.

Sure, he had had sex, but for whatever cursed reason, sex with his keener-ex was the best he'd ever had (and for Derek that was saying something *coughmanwhorecough*).

"Yes, Derek, see that's what happens when you have real friends and not a bunch of fake whores and moronic jocks."

He gave her a sly look, (can you tell where this is heading?) "So you're saying that _all _the girls I've been with are fake whores?" Casey was halfway through a nod before she gasped in horror, finally realizing his implication.

She smacked him.

And forgot he was driving.

So, our silly little Casey forgot that Derek was driving! Or simply ignored this life-and-death fact. Probably the latter.

Quickly gripping the wheel he tried to swerve the car out of the path of a large and doom-radiating truck that was flying towards them with an immeasurable amount of speed.

Managing to do so, he pulled over to the side and gave Casey a 'what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you?' look. She, at least, had the grace to look ashamed for five seconds (tops), before turning and screaming at Derek.

Don't let it be confused with, 'screaming for Derek'. Totally different things there, people.

"If you hadn't made that stupid, disgusting comment then I wouldn't have hit you!" She screeched, trying her absolutely hardest not to hyperventilate into a full-brown panic attack.

Derek, sensing his ex-girlfriend/step-sisters' soon to be (dramatic) panic attack, had started to fumble around for her paper bag. Succeeding on finding it tucked underneath his window (why, he doesn't know, it's not as if he'd actually let her drive his baby.), he blows it open and shoves it inside her mouth.

Effectively chocking her for a moment before she was able to grasp it and breathe deeply into her brown saviour.

"Casey," Derek said slowly, head now in his hands as he leaned on the steering wheel for some sort of physical, real-life, sane support.

She looked at him, eyes filled with a crazed terror. A thought had just struck her, and she resembled a meth head, the ones that are muttering in an alley about how iPhones were going to take over the world and caterpillars where the Muggle resemblance of Voldermort, all the while desperately snorting her white buddy.

"Stop acting rid—" but before poor Derek would even complete his request his crazy ex-girlfriend had climbed into his lap and whispered, "We could have died."

He gave her a look.

A look that only widened her already big eyes and forced his arched brow to hide in fear up his hairline.

"No shit Sherlock." The sarcasm dripped from his words. "And here I thought we were getting a ride from the nice trucker."

She slapped him again. Didn't he understand? _Didn't he? _Casey realise, maybe too late, that he would probably end up in a relationship. A successful one. While, she, all the while, was stuck alone, writing her sorrows and despairs into a New York best seller; but, his wife...she'd be blonde, blonde of course, he liked blondes, and empty headed. Probably in the middle of sex she would get up and make him a sandwich. They wouldn't have kids, because she'd be the new Angelina Jolie so half of a third world country would be adopted, _but _if they did have twins then she'd have a personal trainer working her body back into shape.

A shape which Derek would lovingly touch.

_Because she had left him! _No. No. It wouldn't do. This simply would not do. The images that her brain was producing was not filling her with happiness, not if she married Miles or Francisco Lachowski.

Derek would marry a blonde, empty headed, successfully beautiful actress while producing world-wide phenomenal films and then to mock her, he'd hire her as a writer and make her watch them together, or he would just completely forget about her and no.

_Pancake time!_

He glared at her.

"Derek," She looked around, still wide-eyed. Leaning in, Derek believed she had _finally _lost that last strip of gripping sanity.

_The same one that caused her to dump him._

"Casey." He mocked.

"We're getting married." She clutched his face, smiling widely, scaring him out of his wits (and sexual thoughts).

He began to chock on thin air.

Whoopie, dead groom. Nope, just kidding, folks.

"You and Miles?" He screeched, they'd only been going out for what, two months! He always knew Casey was crazy but this…

She began to laugh like it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard, "No, babe, me and you!"

He looked lost for a moment, before snapping his fingers in a newly lighted realization.

"Oh, gotcha, you're have a hysterical delusion. " He breathed a sigh of relief, giving her a pitying look.

"I AM PERFECTLY RATIONAL!" Casey bellowed and then uncapped her bottle, spraying him for a good measure.

"Casey, shush, you aren't. The nice doctors will fix you up, and put you in a pretty white jacket and it'll all be _okay._"

Casey soaked him again.

"You know," Derek said, scooping his sopping bangs, "that gets less cute every time you do it."

"But I'd make you pancakes everyday!"

Derek blinked, "Wait, seriously?" Casey nodded eagerly, gripping his face tightly.

He blanched, shoved her into his seat and started the car up again.

"Where are we going?" She pouted.

"Vegas."

_-Fin-_

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><p><em>AN: Ending is inspired from 'Nothing Like The Sun' by Snapplededucated. _

_Thunder xxx_


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